Monday, 27 July 2009

Superb recital of Brahms, Tchaikovsky and Chopin by Mikhail Kazakevich and Elena Zozina for The Chopin Society at St Gabriel's Church, Warwick Square . Click the heading to hear them playing Chopin's Rondo for two pianos in C, Op 73.

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-nightTen to make and the match to winA bumping pitch and a blinding light,An hour to play, and the last man in.And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat.Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,But his captain's hand on his shoulder smote"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"

The sand of the desert is sodden red -Red with the wreck of a square that brokeThe gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.The river of death has brimmed its banks,And England's far, and Honour a name,But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks -"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"

This is the word that year by year,While in her place the school is set,Every one of her sons must hear,And none that hears it dare forget.This they all with a joyful mindBear through life like a torch in flame,And falling fling to the host behind -"Play up! Play up! And play the game!"

Cmdr Colin Balfour, RN, DL, who died last week after suffering an eight-year illness brought on by a fall, was a most charming and amusing man and, with his wife Prue, one of my parents' closest friends. He was brought up in Oxfordshire and was an early friend of Bill Birch Reynardson's and was with him at Eton. Both of them went to war in 1942, Colin joining the navy and Bill the army, and saw a great deal of action (and Bill was wounded). Colin retired from the navy in 1952 and took up farming on his family's estate at Wintershill and in Scotland, which he loved. He was for many years chairman of the govenors of the local school, chairman and treasurer of the Parish Council and a church warden at Durley Church for 24 years. An excellent shot, a superb mimic and story-teller (and mathematician) and a kind and generous man, he and Prue maintained a wonderful social life in Hampshire and in Scotland. Among my parents' fondest memories (apart from many hilarious dinner parties) were when they visited them in the South of France and the annual cricket matches against the village, played on the pitch at Wintershill. Prue, the daughter of an admiral, who died in 2016 was as charming and gregarious as he was and both enhanced the lives of all those around them.
I have a particular reason to be grateful to Colin and Prue as it was when my father was shooting at Wintershill that he met Bill Birch Reynardson who offered me a job at Thomas Miller where I happily remained for 39 years.

Tuesday, 7 July 2009

The Painted Hall at Greenwich - formerly in the Royal Naval College and now part of the National Maritime Museum - is such an impressive room; even more so than the Drapers' Hall It almost rivals the Palazzo Colonna in Rome. This was an RNLI dinner. Click here for some more photos

A friend who hadn't worked for about twenty years and who was finding it hard to maintain herself recently applied for welfare. She now gets her housing paid for (she rents a modest room), plus £60 a week for food and necessaries. National Health Services - doctors, hospitals, medicines, dentists, glasses etc - are of course already free. Libraries, art galleries and museums are free. Tube and bus travel are free to over 60s. And one is allowed £15,000 of savings without affecting these benefits. Whatever anyone says about Britain, one has to be proud of the way its citizens are looked after when they get into difficulties.

Wednesday, 1 July 2009

Margaret Thatcher poses with Chelsea Pensioners John Ley, David Poultney, John Walker and Charles McLaughlin 14th February 2008

The Margaret Thatcher Infirmary at the Royal Hospital, Chelsea, was opened by Prince Charles earlier in the year, but on 25th June a dinner was held for the Friends of the Royal Hospital for Baroness Thatcher in whose honour it had been named. She was unfortunately unable to attend, having broken her arm in a fall. But she made a video which was shown and which brought warm applause from the Friends. Click here for some more photos from the evening.

It looks easy from a distance,easy and lazy, even,until you stand up to the plateand see the fastball sailing inside,an inch from your chin,or circle in the outfieldstraining to get a beadon a small black dota city block or more high,a dark star that could fallon your head like a leaden meteor.

The grass, the dirt, the deadly hopsbetween your feet and overeager glove:football can be learned,and basketball finessed, butthere is no hiding from baseballthe fact that some are chosenand some are not--those whose mittsfeel too left-handed,who are scared at third baseof the pulled line drive,and at first base are scaredof the shortstop's wild throwthat stretches you out like a gutted deer.

There is nowhere to hide when the ball's spotlight swivels your way, and the chatter around you falls still, and the mothers on the sidelines, your own among them, hold their breaths, and you whiff on a terrible pitch or in the infield achieve something with the ball so ridiculous you blush for years.

It's easy to do. Baseball was invented in America, where beneath the good cheer and sly jazz the chance of failure is everybody's right, beginning with baseball.

No medium has yet been devised for the translation of life into language, nor can any words recall the dazzling fluidity of days. Single yet fixed in sequence, they fall like the shaft of a cataract into time and through it.